Year 2000
by Iron Woobie
Summary: It's the year 2000, and Barry Allen has just started his career as Central City's resident speedster, the Flash. Fresh out of college and adjusting to life, he's got the woman of his dreams, the best bromance any dude could hope for, villains who keep him on his toes, and Wally - an incredible tiny friend that almost intimidates him with his intelligence. Now a series of Oneshots.
1. Prologue: Year 2000

_**A.N.**_ One day, I looked over what I've written so far on this fandom, and I realized that my stories have had pretty much the same genre: Hurt/Comfort + Something. What can I say? I enjoy causing pain to my faves! Is that wrong? Hehe...

And then I thought… **Gee, what if I tried to write something** _ **happy**_ **for once?**

Just for kicks. :)

This one-shot is sort of based on a few things mentioned in "Outlier". I was looking back at the year 2000 in the official Young Justice timeline, and that was the year that Barry and Hal both started crime fighting. It was before Barry and Iris got married, and it was years before the League even get started. Wally was definitely little. So this is my first attempt at something on the "fluffier" side of the spectrum. *shrugs*

Hope you enjoy! Leave a review if you feel compelled!

* * *

 **Prologue: Year 2000**

In the beginning, the kid had _no confidence_.

Barry sighed as his redheaded companion stared blankly into the water, not moving a muscle. "C'mon, Kid. Just step in."

There was a pause, and Wally stubbornly shook his head. "No way," he squeaked. At five years old, the ginger boy was small for his age, very thin, and slightly timid in the best scenarios. "It'll eat me," the kid mumbled.

With a quiet chuckle, Barry said, "No, it won't. Look, it's not eating me!" He had already waded into the pool, where the shallow water barely came up to his knees. Now Barry was trying to encourage the kid to join him so they could start the swimming lesson.

"That's 'cause you're too big. It can't die-jest you." Wally backed away. "It can die-jest me, though. 'Cause I'm little." Tiny fists clenching tightly, he took another step back while frowning at the water.

Barry sighed. "Kid, wait. Let's just-" But Wally was already running back down the street, putting as much distance between him and the neighborhood pool as possible. Watching his little ginger friend flee, he sighed.

 _He'd have to try a different approach._

* * *

"Hey there, kiddo. Want to go out and play catch?" Barry smiled as he poked his head into Wally's room. The kid was on the floor, playing with his Flash figurine and quietly making _whoosh-whoosh_ sounds. He looked up at Barry and broke into a huge grin, gently setting the toy down on his nightstand and running to grab his ball and gloves from his closet.

"Ready!" he announced a few seconds later. They were just about to walk downstairs towards the front door when thunder suddenly rumbled through the house.

Wally jumped and ran to the nearest window. The world outside was in a downpour, already soaking the grass, shrubs, and everything not under a roof. "We can't play. It's raining," he whispered disappointedly.

"Aww, sure we can! It's just water, Wally." Barry put a comforting hand on the child's shoulder, urging him to follow him out of the house. But Wally resisted with all of his might.

"It's not 'just water', Uncle Barry. Look!" He pointed at the sky as a crack of white lightning danced across the dark clouds. "We'd… we'd get struck by tha' lightning. It'd e… e-lec-tro-cute us."

Barry opened his mouth to object and try to tempt Wally outside, hoping to get him comfortable with wetness before graduating to full-pool-submersion. But he refrained from saying anything more, because… the kid did have a point.

The last thing anyone wanted was for Wally to start to tango with _lightning_ , after all.

So Barry shrugged and settled for watching a movie on the couch with his tiny kiddo instead.

* * *

"He'll be _six_ next month, Barry. This is getting f***ing ridiculous."

Hal Jordan, Barry's best friend and confidante, possessed a wealth of opinions and an arsenal of... less-than-tactful language to express those opinions. Most of the time, it was part of his charm, yet right now it felt pretty aggressive. The Green Lantern took another bite out of his burger and gestured exasperatedly with a ketchup-coated french fry. "Y'know, you could also just throw the sucker in and make him figure it out that way," he offered, talking with his mouth full. "It's what my old man did, and I turned out fine, didn't I?" Hal swallowed and grinned widely, eyebrows raised expectantly.

Barry chuckled and rubbed his face. "Not everyone would agree with you on that one, Hal," he joked, earning a fry tossed at his face. But then his face sobered up and he took a pensive sip of his Dr. Pepper. "I've just had to be really, really careful. I'm not a real West; I just met this family last summer. Assuming Iris and I get married in the future - and don't get me wrong, it's pretty serious between us - Wally could potentially become my nephew. I'm just… sowing seeds, hoping he'll like me."

Hal stared at him, eventually shrugging incredulously. "He's a kindergartner, Barry. So he's young, gullible, and impressionable. He's lonely as f***, and he idolizes your alter ego. He spends every moment he can with you. I think we both know that 'wittle Wally' adores the crap out of you, let alone 'likes' you. So… what gives?"

"It's that…" Barry groaned in the effort to find words to his inner turmoil, crunching a napkin in one hand and looking out the window of the small diner where they ate. "It's that… I dunno Hal. I just… I've never had anyone look up to me, and… and Kid… he's special. He's _so incredibly special_ , man. Like you have no idea."

Barry turned back to Hal, blue eyes wide and lively in the moment. "Like, take last week for instance. I came by his house in the afternoon like I usually do, and I found him reading Homer. You get it? The five-year-old was reading _The Odyssey_. Week before that, he was reading the freakin' _Encyclopedia_. Chemistry books, almanacs, theoretical physics journals." Barry leaned across the table, whispering in an almost reverent voice. "I found out today that Wally recently taught himself French. He's not even in grade school, and Kid _taught_ _himself_ to speak French. Almost fluently at this point. Just because. He 'was bored,' he said." He sat back in his seat in the booth slowly, eyebrows drawn in a look of both wonder and concern. "That's what I'm dealing with, Hal. Kid's so brilliant - we're talking _Mensa_ -level - but no one appreciates it, notices it, or cares. His parents know he's bright, but they have a hard time showing it. But me?"

"You see his genius and don't want to f*** anything up." Hal spoke matter-of-factly, nibbling thoughtfully on a fry. "Understandable."

"There is _so much potential_ there, Hal. So much." Barry muttered, his voice weighed down with mutual enthusiasm and exhaustion. "Wally could grow up to do amazing things, but he needs that support. He's too timid, too shy, too… too self-doubting. His parents won't give him that boost. His teachers won't. He has few to no friends as far as I know. So the way I see it, I'm it. I want to give Wally some confidence, but I don't want to force it. He's too precious to lose. And here I am, possible future _uncle_ of the kid, barely out of college and chasing a master's, and for some insane reason, I'm also a _superhero_ as of six months ago. Six. Months. Even shorter term than yours, man. And it's just a lot and I don't know how it'll turn out and everything's just- _ugh…_ " He pulled his hair and pressed his face to the cold marble table with a low, long-suffering sigh.

Hal sucked Coke through a straw and stared at his best friend's freak-out with a blank stare on his face. Nothing was said for several minutes. Inhaling, he considered Barry's unusual position. This was a friggin' huge ton of crap weighing on one twenty-five-year-old's shoulders, let alone a guy like Barry Allen, who had the unhealthy tendency of trying to fix the world's problems by himself. It would kill him one day, everyone knew that. But it was Hal's responsibility to make sure that day wasn't coming anytime soon. The guy was going to tear himself apart if he tried to take everything on with the wrong mindset.

Time for some tough love.

After another few seconds, Hal slammed his empty glass on the hard table and gripped Barry's shoulder tight, forcing the blonde man to look him in the eye.

"Look, Barry. I'll be frank. I'm the absolute _last_ guy you should come to when you need help getting your life in order. Let's be honest, it's a miracle I'm even wearing underwear today." Hal shook his head in somewhat bitter, self-deprecating humor. "My socks haven't matched in three months because I'm horrible at doing laundry and keeping track of little things in general. We're both new to the hero game, but your city loves you while mine still refuses to acknowledge that I even exist, for some reason. And I won't be getting engaged anytime soon because I can't even make it from 'one-night-stand' to 'dating' with the ladies. You've got me beat in… well, pretty much every department in life." Hal sucked in a breath and leaned in, squeezing Barry's shoulder harder to make sure he was heard.

"So _listen_ to me when I tell you this, because it's about the only wisdom I can offer, and you're entering a stage in your crazy life where you need to hear this. You. Can. Handle. It. You are Bartholomew Henry Allen, the Fastest Man Alive, freakin' golden-hearted labrat and the best uncle any kid this side of the Rockies could ask for. And I, Harold Jordan, know you better than practically any other soul on this g**d*** planet. And I know that your greatest strengths are your abilities to one," he vehemently held up a finger with his other hand in Barry's face, "adapt. And two, _bounce back_. Bounce back like a f***ing tennis ball, man. Because as you adapt and try to juggle all these stupid things that come with being a new metahuman in your first year on _top_ of trying to win over a genius five-year-old kid, you will screw up. Because you're still human, moron. And that's _okay_. No sweat. It'll be fine, because guess what? You. Will. F***ing. Bounce. Back. Alright, Barry?"

By now, the two best friends were head-to-head, Hal's hand gripping Barry's shoulder while his brown eyes stared intensely into Barry's shocked blue counterparts.

"Alright," Barry finally exhaled, and Hal felt his best friend relax beneath his grasp.

"Good," he muttered, gently punching Barry's shoulder before pulling his hand away.

They said nothing for a while, resolving to enjoy the comfortable silence. Then Barry smirked. "Pretty passionate words there, lover boy. Come up with all that on the spot there, did ya?"

Hal wrinkled his nose, rolling his eyes. "You just need to get your head out of the clouds, stupid. I just happen to be good at kicking your sorry butt in gear."

"Again, talking about my butt…" Barry teased mercilessly, earning him yet another fry in the face.

They continued to make jokes and laugh as they caught up, and Barry left an hour later feeling a bit better about the future.

And he had an idea to get Wally's confidence rolling. It was all about… _adapting_.

* * *

Two months later, Wally West was valiantly swimming across the pool towards Barry's outstretched arms, with his parents and his Aunt Iris watching his progress with delight. His Flash water wings and matching life vest kept him afloat - useful tools that were unusually necessary to keep Wally from sinking, since he and Barry figured out pretty quickly that the ginger lacked any amount of body fat to keep himself afloat naturally - and his arms and legs struck out in the water with intensity and _confidence_.

"That's it, Kid! Almost there," Barry cheered him on from the deep end.

Wally grinned, even though his eyebrows were drawn together with exertion and concentration. Swimming, of all sports, was bound to be the most difficult for the kid who was so impossibly thin and lacking in muscle. Barry had known this from the start. It was exactly the reason why he'd wanted Wally to master it anyways.

Triumph through adversity. Or some fortune-cookie stuff along those lines.

Watching his little buddy making progress along the pool, keeping momentum just the way Barry had taught him… Barry couldn't hold back the unbridled grin on his face.

Wally was a very, very special kid. And Barry had a feeling that right now, they were just barely skimming the surface.

For the two friends - young adult and much younger child - the future was bound to be bright indeed.

* * *

 _ **A.N.**_ So, that's that! I'm curious about what you think! Leave a review if you'd like! :)

Best,

Iron Woobie


	2. Soles and Souls

_**A.N.**_ So I got a lot of positive responses on that oneshot! And, to be honest, I really enjoyed writing it. Writing more conflict/struggle-type fics like "Outlier" bring their own kind of "fun" to me, but… _**levity is good, too.**_

Which is why - as many of you readers have requested - I am making "Year 2000" into a series of oneshots/drabbles/short stories! (Funny how "Outlier" started out the same way… hopefully I'll stick to the plan this time!) "Outlier" takes priority, of course, but this is a kind of _release_ between those big chapter updates. Oneshots will all be out of chronological order - though I may or may not rearrange them if/when this all comes to a close. :)

 **IMPORTANT:** if you have an **idea or request** for a oneshot in the Year 2000, leave a review! I can't promise I'll write all requested ideas, but I think having some prompts thrown out there could be fun for everyone! :)

Hope you enjoy!

* * *

 **August 9th: Soles and Souls**

Nothing puts the icing on a hectic morning of patrol like blown-out boot soles for a certain scarlet speedster.

It was like the moment when the rubber on a car's tire pops: the sudden jolt, the weaving, the sudden panic smacking you in the face like an angry girlfriend…

Add in the fact that the rubber involved formed the sole of an incredibly important boot, double the sensation (boots come in pairs), exchange a human being for the car, and set the speed on said human to Mach 3 - over 1000 miles per hour.

Envision it.

Okay. Roll tape.

Cue Barry Allen spiraling uncontrollably off the side of the overpass, barefoot, disoriented, and thanks to his speedy perception, freefalling in _slow motion_.

As he plummeted down to the streets below, Barry had nothing but time to look at his life, look at his choices. Taking stock of what had brought him to this point, and seeing the consequence creeping towards his face, the Flash slowly smiled to himself and rolled his eyes.

"Figures," he muttered, moments before his body slammed onto Armstrong Street, forming a Flash-shaped crater in the earth and sending traffic and bystanders into a frenzy. The news caught the whole thing, every television viewer in the city gaped in horror, and the criminal network went haywire.

The Flash had taken hard falls before, but not like this.

It rocked Central City to its core.

* * *

 ** _You're watching GBS Breaking News._**

" _This is Iris West, broadcasting to you live from downtown where the Flash has just fallen from the I-35 overpass, just near the 290 exit. The Scarlet Speedster was in pursuit of a stolen armored truck that had robbed 17.5 million dollars from the Bank of America on 45th half an hour ago, but his progress was halted when the hero lost traction on the pavement and tumbled sideways off the side of the overpass to land face-down in the middle of Armstrong Street. Police have blocked the roads, and commuters are encouraged to take a detour down Orwell Avenue to avoid the traffic that has piled up around the impact site. EMT personnel have arrived on the scene, but the Flash's condition and status is still unknown. More info in ten. Back to you, Jim."_

As the red light above the camera blinked off and her camerawoman took her microphone, Iris sighed and glanced over at the patch of road encompassed by police no-crossing tape and several officers standing guard.

The red-haired reporter crossed her arms and began to pace, sensible yet fashionable business heels clacking impatiently on the asphalt. Biting her lip, she couldn't restrain herself from looking over at the crash site every four or five seconds, hoping for an update from Officer Daniels. Still no dice.

Why did she care so much? Why did any of the citizens watching anxiously from the sidelines care so much? Why did Central City care at all?

Good questions. Questions the nation was trying to answer. Iris was actually working on a feature piece for the weekend's Nightly News detailing the unique culture found only in America's Golden Town. She was hoping to find time to do an exclusive with the Flash, but he was strangely good at dodging her so far.

Now she had the opportunity of a lifetime to interview the Scarlet Speedster, but he was broken and out for the count.

Iris smirked wistfully, eyebrows furrowed in concern. _Foiled again._

"Yo. Reporter lady. Over here."

Iris whirled around to see three men in oddly-colored getups approaching. The crowd parted quickly, stifled gasps of shock and fear erupting from the crowd. Iris took a step back in alarm as the three figures came into full view. "What on earth do you want?" she called out, left hand unconsciously curling into a fist.

 _Rogues._

Were they here for the Flash, now that he was vulnerable?

"Keep ya panties on, lady," one of them said calmly, holding up a hand. "We ain't gonna hurt any of ya. Not even Twinkle Toes over there."

"We're here to send a message next time you go on air," another said, his voice low and rumbling. "Give us two minutes, a-ight?"

Iris raised her head high, gritting her teeth in equal parts fear and defiance. "And why on earth would I do that? Why would I possibly let you use my station?"

The third shook his head slowly, rubbing his face. "Look, ma'am. If you want this city to stay safe and not - you know - _burned to the ground_ in the next twenty-four hours, you'd be wise to let us say a few words. Get it, ma'am?" His eyes narrowed behind his mask, and Iris felt a shiver go down her back. She glanced over her shoulder at the impact site where the Flash lay helpless. What should she do?

Her camera crew gestured for her to get in position for the next run, and in a split second decision that Iris dearly hoped she wouldn't regret later, she muttered, "Follow me."

Ninety seconds later, families around the city leaned forward in shock at the news broadcast. Pedestrians halted in front of storefronts to watch the TVs on display. The volume was amped on car radios as the unthinkable took place. National news stations connected with GBS, and international news stations began streaming coverage onto websites around the globe.

Central City had the world's attention.

" _This is Iris West, reporting to you live from downtown where the Flash has recently fallen. Now, I hand the microphone over to none other than… Captain Cold, who wishes to share a few words to the people of Central City - citizens and criminals alike."_ The microphone was handed over to a hand wearing a white glove, and on screen appeared one of the most feared and hated villains in the metropolis.

This was unprecedented.

" _Good morning to Central City civilians, criminals, and law enforcement."_ A cool, even voice spoke into the microphone, Captain Cold's face hidden behind ski goggles and beneath a navy blue hood. _"For those who do not know, I am Captain Cold. Leader of the Rogues Gallery in this fine city. In light of this recent accident with the Flash, I wish to state two messages: one, to my fellow Rogues and the broader underground network, and two, to all citizens who are listening to this._

" _Guys, I'm calling a Code: Black. Effective immediately, I order all criminal affairs and activities to cease for three days. Full stop. There will be no crime in Central City. No robberies, no muggings, no vandalism, no face-offs with law enforcement, no violence, no murders. This also means no gatherings at our usual spots, no scheming and/or plotting, no stakeouts. Don't even 'case the joint.' Three days, everyone. Just hang up the costumes. Go take your kids for a walk in the park. Have a picnic, play chess, whatever. Keep yourselves occupied for seventy-two hours. This command can and will be enforced. Anyone who disobeys… answers to me._

" _Now, people of Central City. I want you to get it in your heads that in these next three days without the Flash, you are safe. Your safety is guaranteed. I know many of you might be scared that this city is like a sitting duck with all of these 'bad guys' around and no Scarlet Speedster to 'keep us in line.' But the worst thing for you to do right now would be to panic. This city is not riot-proof, and almost all of you are weak, nonthreatening beanbags of human beings. If you terrorize the streets in fear, you will die. You get it?_

" _Central City is safe as long as you keep your heads screwed on right. This city will be quiet - no crime, no cause for fear - for three days, out of respect to the Flash. We will give him a chance to get back on his feet._

"' _Why?' is probably what you're asking yourselves right now. Well, truth is folks, we Rogues are criminals, but we are not monsters. Isn't that surprising? We're citizens of this city too, and we care about its welfare. We may bend the law now and again, but we don't want to see this place destroyed. We have souls. We really do have souls, just like the Flash does, and just like you do. So while there are many out there who may disregard my orders, have faith in your police force and have faith in humanity that you and your friends and family will not die in the next three days just because Mr. Fastest Man Alive is taking a vacation._

" _I'm only going to say this once, people. The Flash is a man of honor and integrity, and he has the respect of Central City's Rogues Gallery. And so, Code: Black has been set in place in respect of his character and his role in keeping this city on track._

" _Uh, so… get well soon, Flash. That's all."_

There was about ten seconds of silence, and then the world went crazy.

* * *

Barry awoke two days later in the Central City Memorial Hospital to the sound of a heartrate monitor ticking out faster-than-average beats per second. His head hurt, his body hurt, and his feet _especially_ hurt.

 _What happened?_ he wondered, mind foggy with pain and painkillers.

A phone - his phone, he vaguely registered - buzzed quietly on the nightstand next to his head, and he groaned. Slowly, he managed to raise his right arm enough to grasp the device, but dropped it on the floor.

"Why me?" he muttered, gritting his teeth as the spoken words made his ribs grind against each other.

 _Ow._

The door to the room opened, and a nurse came in, smiling with that look of gentle concern that all good healthcare professionals have. "Mr. Flash, you're awake. How do you feel?"

 _Mr. Flash?_

It was then that Barry realized with a weird sense of confused gratitude that his cowl was still securely concealing his entire head. His nose and mouth were exposed as usual, allowing for a breathing tube to rest uncomfortably in his nose. The rest of his body was wearing a hospital gown, but his head was still _anonymous_.

Incredible. Talk about resisting temptation.

Realizing the nurse was still waiting for a reply, he answered in a raspy voice, "Feeling alright, thanks. Kinda painful, but… I've been in worse shape." Being struck by lightning and taking a toxic chemical bath really puts things into perspective. He chuckled slightly, wincing at the jabs in his lungs, and added, "I have dropped my cell phone, though. Could you possibly-"

"Of course," she replied, reaching down to hand it to him without even looking at it. Barry was sure to keep his personal effects under lock and key to keep away prying eyes, but it was wonderful to know that the hospital staff wasn't itching to get a peek at his secret identity.

"Thanks so much." He smiled and opened the phone, inwardly groaning at the thirty-nine text messages from Hal. Iris wasn't much better - twenty-nine, plus thirteen phone calls. And… his boss had called. Dr. Richardson didn't sound pleased at his missing work without notice. His professors expressed worry about his attendance. Jay - the only other person besides Joan and Hal who knew about Barry's double life - was concerned but calm, knowing that speedsters make speedy recoveries.

"Who knew I was so popular?" he mumbled to himself tiredly, sending out texts with excuses or instructions to take a chill-pill ( _Hal_ ).

"The world, apparently. Have you seen the news lately?" the nurse asked kindly. At Barry's confused look, she retrieved a remote and turned on the television in the room before handing him the controller. "I'll leave you in peace," she said, pausing to make sure his IV and morphine drips were working before exiting the room.

Almost every news station was broadcasting the same clip - Captain Cold, fearsome commander of the Rogues, sending his regards to the city and calling a crime-free zone. The speech heard 'round the world.

" _We have souls."_

The programming switched back to other news stories, and Barry muted it, staring at the screen in shock.

His bad guys… weren't so bad.

An hour later, Barry was talking to Hal over a big plate of hospital burgers - not five-star cuisine, but necessary for a speedster on the verge of detrimental hypoglycemia from not eating real food for two days.

Hal was jabbering with his usual energy. "-and that's when I told the police chief that if Central City likes the _Flash_ so d*** much, Coast City should completely f***ing _love_ me! And that's when he hung up… You know, I don't think he and I on good terms at the moment. Maybe I should fix that. Buy the station some donuts or something," Hal added thoughtfully.

Barry huffed in dry laughter, swallowing a bite of a burger. "Dude, don't get donuts. That's just wrong."

"Why not? Cops love donuts."

" _No._ That's a stereotype. If you're trying to _not_ offend your law enforcement, make amends by _not_ implying that they're lazy, fat wastes of taxpayer dollars. C'mon, Hal. Even you aren't that heartless."

Barry could practically hear his best friend laughing over the line. "Yeah, yeah, I know. I'll play nice." Hal's tone of voice changed slightly. "Did the doc say when you'll be released?"

"They want to keep me under observation for another twenty-four hours, but my rate of recovery is fast enough that I expect to be back in business by early tomorrow morning. They might let me free early."

"Good. 'Cause your little crime-free period is gonna end, and you want to be at full strength when the baddies get back in gear," Hal warned.

Barry grinned. "Yeah, I'll have my hands full. Still have trouble believing this is happening. Not sure why Cold made the call, but I'm… really glad he did."

Hal scoffed. "So does your police force just suck that much? How did they manage the crime before you came along? Odd how the entire crime-fighting burden hinges on your presence there, blondie."

"It's not that simple." Barry grunted as he readjusted his seating position in his hospital bed, taking a sip of Gatorade. "You see, most of the Rogues made their debut after I did. They see themselves as a counterbalance to my existence. Before the Flash showed up, Central City had pretty low crime rates for a major American urban center. We weren't spotless, but we weren't like… like _Gotham_ , you know what I mean? Now, adding me in that equation meant crime dropped to almost zero in the first week. We're just talking petty crimes, ordinary misdemeanors, a few felonies… but no grand schemes to paint the industrial district in circus colors or anything ridiculous like that. So the Rogues started cropping up in an effort on the part of the criminal network to balance out my influence. Crime rates rose again to where they were before. Every time I get better at my job, they get better weapons, regroup, grow stronger in response. It's like the Cold War, Hal; compensation, escalation, give-and-take."

"So… what happens if you stop? What if you retired right now? Do you think the Rogues would hang up their goofy uniforms, too?" Hal pointed out.

"Unlikely." Barry shrugged to himself with a sigh. "They're determined to keep up their end, so I need to stay on top of my work. _They've_ roped _me_ in to this gig, ironically."

"Sounds weird."

"No kidding."

Hal hummed. "Still, they're willing to wait for you to catch up, man. Villains just don't do that. It's stupid because it's too nice. Villains are dumb, but they're usually not stupid, Barry." Hal laughed, "And that _'We have souls'_ bit? It's trending on Twitter. Let me repeat that. _Your bad guy is currently trending on international social media._ "

"Crazy, huh?"

" _Crazy?!_ Barry, I hope you realize that you, your city, and your little 'crime buddies' are a collective freak of nature. You're all redefining what society's relationship with superheroes should look like. Heck, your city loves you so much, I wouldn't be surprised if they started to worship the ground you run on."

"Actually, fun fact: after my wonderful sky-dive off the overpass, the City Council has decided to start allocating official funds for the Flash. They're paying for my hospital bills, they're getting me S.T.A.R. Labs-manufactured soles for my boots that'll hold up to the friction from my running… they're even paving me my own lane on the major roads so I don't have to worry about weaving through traffic when I run." Barry reached for another burger, hearing Hal splutter in indignation. "Oh, and they're building me a museum next year."

After a pause, Hal burst out in incredulous laughter. "I hate you _so much_ right now, dude."

"Somebody's jealous," Barry said in a singsong voice.

"Yeah? What's your point? I'm a few steps away from being Public Enemy Number One in my hometown, but you're a f***ing celebrity in yours? Where's the _justice_ in that, blondie?" Hal cried out, humor hidden in his mock-insulted words.

Barry snickered. "Some people have charisma, people-skills, charm. Some people just have… _dandruff_."

"Hey! You know I have perpetually dry skin! I told you that in _complete confidence_!"

"This is _me_ , Hal. Everything you tell me automatically becomes prime blackmail material."

"Don't make me curb-stomp you next time I see you. Which will be when, exactly?" Hal asked expectantly.

"I'm free for lunch day after next. You?"

"Free. Perfect." Hal muttered something to himself, and finally sighed. "Get better, Barry. I know you don't really realize it, but there are a lot of people who really f***ing care and worry about you. I mean, Iris, Jay, me, Wally, we care of course. But other people know only what the news tells them. You don't even know who they are, but people see things like 'The Flash nearly drowns in Lake Erie' and 'The Flash gets sucked into a tornado' and 'The Flash falls one hundred twenty feet off a d*** overpass', and they _freak out_. You're… you're really loved, man. You're trusted. So don't make us worry whether or not you're going to make it every g**d*** week."

Barry said nothing, choosing to just let his best friend's words hang in the air.

Hal realized how unbelievably _sappy_ he sounded, and quickly added, " _But_ if you die, then that means the Green Lantern will finally get his well-deserved 'limelight', so… maybe you should kick the bucket after all."

"Nice save there, Hal."

"Yeah, not my best."

* * *

 _ **A.N.**_ So! It's late and I'm kind of hyper after a long day, so I feel like ranting about why I'm excited to work on this series! 3 reasons: 1) Barry is my 2nd favorite character to write for, other than Wally, and I'm really growing to love writing Hal. Hal didn't get any serious airtime on the show for us to understand his character, so I see him almost the way I see Hartley - a character with a canon-skeleton to work from, but otherwise a blank slate to work with as I please! 2) One of things I've loved experimenting with in "Outlier" is incorporating the Flash universe (plus Central City/Rogues) into the Young Justice continuity, and I think this could be a fun place to explore more of that. 3) The Young Justice canon has left a lot of things blank/vague/out altogether, and a lot of cool details have been hidden in the tie-in comic books, the wiki (my lifeblood), and in Q &A responses via "Ask Greg". While all this… ambiguity could be seen as frustrating, what with plot holes, unanswered questions and whatnot, I see it as opportunity to get creative! Imaginative! Also I get a little bit OCD and like to fill in the blanks whenever possible. So I plan to play with tiny things from the YJ universe, just 'cause I find that kind of stuff interesting. :)

 **IMPORTANT:** if you have an **idea or request** for a oneshot in the Year 2000, leave a review! I can't promise I'll write all requested ideas, but I think having some prompts thrown out there could be fun for everyone! :)

I'm interested in what you think!

Yours,

Iron Woobie


	3. In Brightest Day

_**A.N.**_ I'm so pleased at the positive response for this oneshot series! Thanks to all the favorites, follows, and reviews! I enjoy writing these, so it's good to hear that you all do, too.

This chapter was inspired by suggestions from **IsAbElA M CuLlEn** and **Violently Red**. Shoutout! :)

 ** _A.N._** _ **#2:**_ _(edit: June 17, 2015)_ Just like my other story "Outlier," this story is now being simultaneously published on Archive of Our Own under my associated account, CallMeIronWoobie. :)

Hope you enjoy! Please review if you'd like! ~Iron Woobie

* * *

 **May 20th: In Brightest Day**

"And you're _sure_ you're okay with this? It's alright if you're not, I can call a neighbor-"

"Barry, please. I'm a natural. Quit worrying, I've got this."

"Yeah, well, forgive me for a lack of total confidence, Hal." Barry sighed and rubbed the back of his neck, staring at his best friend dubiously. They stood side-by-side on the front porch of Wally's house, the blonde speedster checking his watch and the brunette guardian grinning impishly. Eventually, Barry gave up, giving a resigned shrug. "Well, I've got to head to work pronto, so let's get this over with." The two men entered the house.

It was a rare coincidence that led to Hal taking this role this morning. Barry had thought he had an off day from work at the forensics lab, but a massive drug bust the night before meant he had to clock in to run several tests before trials started. However, he'd already promised the Wests that he could watch Wally for the day while his parents were out of town, so Barry found himself in a tight spot.

Hence the famously irresponsible and immature Hal Jordan accepting the role of _babysitter_ for a kid he had yet to meet.

"Kid! It's me!" Barry called in the house, making his way to the den where he knew the kid was watching cartoons and/or reading.

"Hi, Uncle Ba-" Wally began, leaping off the couch and running over before freezing in place at the sight of the stranger in his home.

 _Here we go._

Barry smiled encouragingly. "Wally, this is my good friend, Hal. Hal, this is my… um… this is Wally." _He couldn't say 'nephew' just yet, even though the kid had already taken to calling him 'uncle.'_

Hal crouched down to Wally's diminutive height, holding out his hand to shake. "Hi there, Walls! Can I call you Walls?"

Wally was silent, staring at Hal with wide green eyes and shaking his hand tentatively. He looked at the strange man's crazy-floppy brown hair, his funny goatee, his bright neon green tank top and blue gym shorts, and his brown eyes that glinted with something mischievous.

"... Okay," he finally said quietly, eyes darting up to give Barry a questioning look, as if he was asking, _What is this odd, scruffy creature you've brought today?_

Reaching down to ruffle Wally's hair, Barry quickly checked his pager and sucked in a breath. "So, Wally. It turns out that I have to go to work today after all. Bummer. But!" He gestured grandly to Hal with a smile, "Hal will be taking my place today to watch you! He's a really awesome guy, and I know you two will have a lot of fun-"

Wally cut him off with a tight hug around his legs, objecting, "No, no! I wanna play with _you!_ You stay, make _him_ go to work!" he demanded, jabbing a finger offendingly at Hal. "He looks lame," Wally whispered.

Hal stood upright and threw his hands up incredulously. "Hey!"

Barry laughed, reminding himself to tease Hal later, and put his hands on Wally's shoulders. "I know, Kid. I want to play today, too, but I do actually have a job to do. It's only for a little while, though - I'll be back around 3. In the meantime," he spun Wally around to face Hal again, "you can spend some quality time with this guy. I promise, he's not as lame as he looks."

"I'm right here, you know!" Hal crossed his arms, but his smile gave away his good humor.

"Hate to go, but I'll be back before you know it, Kid." Barry said, taking a step back from Wally and making his way to the door. "Stay out of trouble, and call me if you two need anything!"

"We won't!" Hal called back at the same time that Wally cried out, "Come back!"

The front door shut, leaving the young man and the young child alone in an awkward silence. Hands on his hips, Hal stared down at Wally, who was frowning and looking down at the floor. After a pause, he asked, "Hey, Walls. What do you like to do for fun?"

"Read." The ginger kid looked up at Hal expectantly.

"Aw, that's _bull-_ I mean, that's nonsense! Nobody likes reading!"

Wally raised his eyebrows in a challenge. "I do."

"... You do, do you?" Hal rubbed his neck. "Uh, what do you like to read?"

"Books. And magazines. Like... this one." Wally pulled an issue of _Popular Science_ and handed it to Hal quietly.

 _Ah, this kid was a science nut. Barry mentioned something about that._

"Wow, Walls. This stuff is… riveting," Hal lied, giving a cheesy grin down to the kid and handing back the magazine. "But, you know what I think would be even more fun? Playing a game!"

Wally didn't say anything for a few seconds, crossing his arms in doubt. "... What kind of game?"

 _This kid needs to loosen up, warm up to me a little._ Hal laughed, walking out of the den to the living room, with Wally following close behind him. "Any game you want! Do you play ball?"

"Play ball?"

"Yeah! Like basketball, football, soccer, baseball-"

"Sometimes, Uncle Barry and I play catch," Wally offered carefully.

"Perfect! Go get the ball and mits, then."

Five minutes later, the Green Lantern and the five-year-old stood about fifteen feet apart on the yard outside, mits in hand. Hal tossed the ball into his own palm a few times experimentally. "So how often do you and Barry hang out, Walls?" He threw the ball to his smaller counterpart as slowly and gently as possible.

It conked Wally in the head regardless. But the kid seemed used to it and picked the ball up off the ground, getting a grip on it with his small fingers. "Three days a week. Tuesday, Thursday, and Saturday."

"Oh, that's cool. And how about your parents? Play catch with your dad often?"

" _No..."_ At the mention of his father, something flickered across Wally's face for a moment, and he chucked the ball much harder than Hal had expected, nailing him _right_ in the groin.

Hal held back a shriek, lowered himself onto his knees, and bit his lip. "Fffffffffuuuuuuuuu… dge!"

Wally dropped his mit and ran over to Hal's side in alarm. "Y-you okay, Hal?"

Inhaling/wheezing, Hal replied in a hoarse rasp and a weak smile, "That's quite the arm you've got there, Walls."

* * *

Barry looked up from his computer with a frown, sensing something was not quite right with the universe before shrugging and returning his focus to the task at hand. "Hey, Justin. Did those meth chem results come in from lab yet?"

"Faxing to you now," the intern called back across the room.

"Great, thanks."

Medical examiner Leah Bowman rolled out on her chair from under the fume hood, goggles and mask obstructing most of her face. "Can someone toss me another vial of iodine? I'm low."

"Comin' atcha," Barry replied, flinging the small bottle of solution over the partition where Leah deftly caught it and returned to her task.

Vincent poked his head in the lab to pass along, "We've got a request from the Wilson defense. Can we get a breakdown of the terrain layers in sector A-9? They're looking for evidence of the nylon-carbon compound tied to Anderson's shoes."

"Copy that," everyone in the room replied simultaneously.

The CCPD forensic team moved like clockwork. They were good. Very, very good.

* * *

Hal and Wally resorted to watching TV, Wally sitting criss-cross applesauce on the couch cushion and Hal reclining lazily with an icepack resting on his nether regions.

Hal watched the program on the screen with only half his attention, his focus turned more to the pint-sized kiddo to his right.

Wally wasn't watching the screen at all, his face burning almost as red as his hair and his green eyes downcast. He kept apologizing for the unfortunate incident an hour ago, and Hal couldn't get him to feel any better. Wally just looked… _morose_.

He had a feeling that the kid was accustomed to playing with Barry, who likely used _just enough_ of that handy superspeed to always catch Wally's tosses and make the kid feel like he had great aim. Confidence booster.

It felt like he'd taken one step forward and three thousand steps back in winning over Wally. Which sucked, because he'd sworn to Barry that he'd get along great with the five-year-old and have a fun day. Now the kid would probably complain when Barry got back, and Hal would look bad.

Plus, to hear the way Barry talked about Wally for the past several months, Hal had been looking forward to meeting the cute, tiny genius in the flesh.

Quirking his mouth, Hal paused for a second and leaned forward a fraction, straining to see what Wally was doing. "Hey, Walls. What's that you've got in your hand, there?"

Wally jumped a bit and glanced at Hal warily. He held up his object - a Flash figurine.

 _Huh_. _Interesting._

"You like the Flash, then?" Hal asked, sitting up gingerly.

Wally nodded, something like excitement flashing (no pun intended) in his eyes.

 _Very interesting._ Hal smirked, realizing he'd finally found an open window. "You know, the Flash _is_ pretty cool, isn't he? Runs real fast, fights crime… Ever seen him in real life?"

"Uh-uh." Wally shook his head slowly, his shoulders relaxing an inch as Hal shared his interest in Wally's favorite hero. "Only on TV and the newspaper."

"Really? Aw, that's too bad," Hal sighed, putting his hands behind his head and leaning back on the couch. "'Cause, you know, I've met him before."

And _that_ got the kid going.

"You've met the Flash?! What's he like?!" Wally exclaimed, pouncing on Hal's arm and knocking the icepack to the floor.

Hal chuckled, patting the ginger's head awkwardly. "Well, he's alright, I guess. Nice. Friendly. Does good deeds. 'N stuff." He crossed his arms and narrowed his eyes playfully, seeing an opportunity to set some things straight. "Not as cool as the _Green Lantern_ , though."

"... Who's that?" Wally asked, cocking his head to the side and looking confused.

Hal almost cried.

* * *

Before Barry knew it, the workday was over and it was time to head out. Clocking out on his timecard and saying goodbye to his coworkers, he got in his car and made the ten-minute drive back to the West house.

 _Wonder how the boys are doing_ , he thought to himself. _They didn't call me once all day._

Barry opened the front door and entered to find Hal chasing Wally around the house, the ginger kid sprinting as fast as his little legs would take him and screeching in joy-and-terror, the taller man running after him at a slower speed, pointing his fist at Wally.

 _The fist with the Green Lantern ring._

Very confused and more than a little concerned, Barry dropped his briefcase by the door and hung up his jacket, not even acknowledged by the racing duo. He watched them for another minute and then crossed his arms and cleared his throat. "Hi," he announced with a smile.

Wally squeaked in surprise at Barry's arrival, tripping over his feet and nearly smacking his forehead against the coffee table. Barry lunged - putting just a touch of super _oomph_ in his step - and caught the boy right before contact, scooping him up in his arms and depositing him on the couch.

"Well." Barry put his hands on his hips and looked at the panting Wally and laughing Hal. "Looks like you two have been having fun."

"Uncle Hal was… was telling me… about Green Lantern," Wally breathed, face flushed and eyes alight with adrenaline. "Green Lantern's my favorite!"

 _..._

 _Really, Hal? Really?_

Barry grinned (somewhat painfully) and sat next to Wally on the couch. "Is that so, Kid? Yeah, I agree. The Green Lantern," he glared over the back of the couch at Hal, who was barely restraining a snicker as he leaned against a wall, "is pretty impressive. But… tell me, what do you like about him? I'm just… curious." Barry ruffled the kid's hair, meeting Hal's eyes in a fuming blue stare.

Wally jabbered excitedly, "The Green Lantern can _fly_ , and go to outer space to fight aliens, and _fly_ , and make real stuff like dump trucks with his ring - Uncle Hal has an… an 'ah-then-tick rep-lick-uh' - and _fly_ , and he wears a glowing green alien costume, and _fly_ , and he's cooler than the Flash! Because he can _fly!_ "

Hal smirked, sitting on the couch on Wally's other side. Clearly, he'd been using the past several hours to brainwash Barry's precious little kiddo.

 _Oh no. This ain't gonna work._

Barry whistled. "Wow, he does sound pretty neat, Kiddo. But, actually, I don't know that he's cooler than the _Flash_. That Batman fellow, _maybe_. But the Flash? Come on, you love the Flash!"

"I dunno, Uncle Barry. All the Flash can do is run real fast. The Green Lantern can _fly!_ The Flash can't do that. He's kinda lame."

Hal grinned even more and mouthed the word ' _Lame'_ over Wally's head, and Barry wanted to smack him.

"Well, _Kid_ ," Barry said, feeling himself get defensive, a tad bit jealous, and very passionate all of a sudden. "I wouldn't say that flying is all that great. I mean, the Flash is the _Fastest Man Alive._ Even if Green Lantern was flying, the Flash would still beat him in a race."

"So?" Wally asked indignantly. "Race schmace. What's your point?"

"Yeah, Barry, _what's your point_?" Hal joined in, loving every second of this.

Barry huffed, trying not to come across as too angry to the _five-year-old_ child while still portraying his full displeasure to the _twenty-five-year-old_ child sitting beside him. _"So_ , if they were in a fight, surely the Flash would be able to whoop Green Lantern's butt with his superspeed, right?"

"Eh," Wally muttered with a shrug. "Green Lantern can make force fields and fights _aliens_ in _outer space_ , Uncle Barry. I don't see how he could lose to someone who just… runs."

Hal snorted and Barry facepalmed.

Outside, Barry practically shoved Hal down the porch steps, whispering incredulously, "Seriously, man? You tried to turn _my own_ future nephew against me? Now I have to do damage-control to get him back on the straight and narrow!"

"Hey now, you heard it yourself. Green Lantern's his _favorite_ , blondie," Hal pointed out with a roguish smirk.

"The _Flash_ should be his favorite. The Flash _is_ his favorite! _I am his favorite!"_ Barry retorted, trying to keep the whine out of his voice.

"Look, I was just helping him see the light!... Huh. You know what rhymes with light?" Hal put a finger to his lips in false wonder.

Barry groaned, "Oh… Don't start that."

Hal closed his eyes and put his hand over his heart as if saying a pledge, reciting gleefully, _"'In brightest day-"_

"Dude, no."

" _-in blackest night-"_

"Ugh, I can't believe you-"

"' _No evil shall escape my sight…'"_ Hal broke off in a chuckle at Barry's struggle to maintain composure.

"... You're the worst." Barry pinched the bridge of his nose with a sigh.

Hal teasingly poked him. "It sounds even better when wittle Wally says it with me. Harmonizing, y'know? He's super smart, just like you said! Memorized it perfectly the first time I taught it to him. I can't wait till next time I take this gig. Might take him to the store and help him pick out some GL sneakers to replace that ratty Flash pair he owns right now. Wally really needs to be around great men. Like moi!"

Barry deadpanned. "Yeah, you're a fantastic influence. You're never babysitting Kid ever again." Barry crossed his arms and raised his eyebrows in frank exasperation. _"Ever."_

Hal laughed, shaking his head and clapping Barry on the shoulder, leaning over to whisper tauntingly in his best friend's ear. _"You bet your a** I am."_

"I hate you."

* * *

 _ **A.N.**_ Ah, Hal. You mischievous you. We all know the Flash is Wally's favorite - this is just a phase. Yeah... just a _phase_ , Barry. :)

Also, for those of you reading "Outlier" as well, Chapter 15 was recently posted!

Remember: if you have an idea for a one-shot taking place during the year 2000, leave a review with your suggestions! I can't promise I'll write all requested ideas, but having prompts from you makes this fun for everyone. :)

 ** _A.N. #2:_** _(edit: June 17, 2015)_ Just like my other story "Outlier," this story is now being simultaneously published on Archive of Our Own under my associated account, CallMeIronWoobie. :)

Yours,

~Iron Woobie


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